Erase Those Doubts, See The Love
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: Charles is insecure of himself after being put in a wheelchair, but Erik - come to see him ten months after the accident - comforts him and makes sure Charles feels never doubts himself again. .:. rated M for smut, obviously. pairing is also obvious. XD


**A/N: As requested by the wonderful and amazing lusciousmalloy on Tumblr; they wanted, and I quote, "Though all of your writing is positively amazing, I have yet to read some cherik smut. Pwease? Smut prompt: Charles is insecure of himself after being put in a wheelchair, but Erik - come to see him ten months after the accident - comforts him and makes sure Charles feels never doubts himself again."**

**So here, everyone: enjoy some sexy tiems. ;D**

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><p>Charles Xavier hasn't been himself lately.<p>

He knows it, too. He doesn't feel like himself. It's been ten months since he lost the use of his legs, and it's all he can do not to feel like less of a man. The nerves are severed; he can't feel or move either leg, and they are like dead weights on his body. Sure, he can use other things below the waist, and feel just enough there, but what else? Nothing. From the roots of his thighs to his toes, he has no sensory.

Sighing, he fumbles and messes up while trying to dress himself. he usually has to lie down on his bed and use his arms and strain his neck to slowly get on his pants, socks, and shoes. He also takes a while to slide his wheelchair as closely as possible to the bed and crawl into it.

He feels feeble and frail and ugly, his state pathetic in his own eyes, and his condition almost laughable. He wants to laugh, but he knows he will only cry, so Charles does the next best thing: he does a twirl in his chair, forces a smile at himself in the mirror (and the imagine almost breaks him), and he heads downstairs.

But not today.

Right as he's feeling the worst, his dress slacks halfway up his legs, his windows fly open and someone lands on the carpet on his bedroom.

Charles Jerks into sitting position, hands covering himself insecurely, and his eyes going comically wide for a moment. "E-Erik?" he sputters disbelievingly. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I came to see you, Charles. Can't I visit my friend?" he says softly, and he sees the state Charles is in and smiles for a second, but then he frowns when he realizes something: Charles can't move. "…Charles? Don't tell me…"

His helmet is off, so Charles doesn't think twice to dip into Erik's mind and see his thought process. The telepath sighs. With a lamenting groan, he drops his face into his hands. "Yes, Erik. Yes, I'm paralyzed, and it was the bullet's doing, but not yours, all right? You couldn't possibly know how this would be. Now, if you please… Could you leave? Just for a few moments. I need to finish dressing myself."

"Let me help you," Erik says without thinking. He strips off his gloves and tosses down his cape and sheds the first layer of his ridiculously villainous, crimson attire. he seats himself on the side of the bed, pushing the wheelchair aside, without thinking twice, and before Charles can protest.

"Wha— No, Erik, I'm fine; please, just go…" And he hates himself for being caught like this by the one person he had last expected to see and yet desired most to see for so long, and he bites his bottom lip to keep it from trembling as Erik presses him down into the mattress and grips his pants, the belt already through them, and starts to lift Charles' useless legs and bring the fabric upward.

But he pauses, the trousers just one move away from being fully on (they need only to be tugged up under Charles' rear). Erik's gaze flickers upward. "Charles?"

"Yes?" the telepath breathes, humiliation evident on his flushed face, his tone quiet. He isn't looking at his unlikely visitor, and that seems suspicious to the metalbender.

"You aren't yourself. Tell me what's wrong," Erik demands, and he moves to lean over Charles, one hand brace by the younger man's ribs on his right side where Erik is leaning over from Charles' left.

Charles shakes his head. "Nothing's wrong; you caught me at a bad time, that's all. Caught me with my trousers down," and he forces a smile.

"I wasn't referring to your state of dress, Charles. I was referring to your state of _distress,_" the other man clarifies with a warning tone. He leans down close, too close, and Charles' heart skips a beat when he realizes that he can feel Erik's body heat. "Where is your confidence in yourself, your arrogance, your defiance? The Charles I knew, even paralyzed, would force me out and finish dressing himself to preserve some of his dignity. You are far too submissive at the moment, and that worries me."

Charles can't resist the tears that rise to his cerulean eyes. When he blinks, one rolls down the side of his face, over his temple and into his hairline. "…You hit the nail on the head, my friend," he mumbles, and looks away, a hand coming up to cover half his face. he sighs. "I am a bit of a mess, I'm afraid. So you should go; this is no time to —"

Erik can't stand to see Charles like this; it damn near breaks his heart, because he can sense how down on himself Charles must be feeling, and that isn't right, because Charles Xavier is a damn attractive man — downright sexy, _even_ — and his legs have nothing to do with how desirous he is.

So Erik proves this by cutting off the man beneath him with a kiss.

When he pulls away, Charles' hand is slipping from his face and his lips are parted in surprise. He blinks a few times, and then lifts his head off the covers to kiss Erik again, and, _good;_ at least this isn't a one-sided ordeal.

Magneto smirks a bit into the kiss, sliding one hand down to push Charles' open pants back down. Charles doesn't feel the movement until Erik pulls out of their heated, tongue-involved kiss to rid Charles' legs of the article of clothing entirely.

"W-wait, Erik —" Charles sputters, because as much as he enjoys kissing his friend, he doesn't want some pity-fuck.

As if being the telepath between them, the mobile mutant sends his friend a look. "This isn't a pity-screw, Charles. I plan on making you see that your doubts in yourself are invalid. You are not permitted to think yourself broken or undesirable, because it isn't true. So let me comfort you,_pleasure _you, and don't second-guess it, nor my intentions for it."

Charles inhales sharply, but nods his head. "Fine, Erik. I understand." And something coils int he pit of his stomach as the way Erik eyes him, and starts to slide his hands upward from unfeeling territory to sensitive territory, ungloves hands ghosting up under Charles' blazer and untucked shirt to start to undo the buttons and map out the surface of the telepath's flesh.

Charles moans softly, his skin growing hot as Erik climbs onto the bed and discards his own clothing to meet Charles' off to the other side of the king-sized mattress. He ducks his head, kissing a trail up from the waistband of Charles' briefs to between his pectorals, feeling his racing heart, and then, finally, under his jaw and over his chin to kiss his lips.

Charles wraps his arms shamelessly around Erik's bare shoulders; he doesn't care that he sounds pathetic when he whimpers as Erik pulls away; he doesn't care that Erik's determination to make him feel better about himself is a little extreme; he honestly doesn't, because he's wanted something like this from Erik for a while now, but since they parted, he never though he would get it. And yet here it is, happening right before his eyes, despite the uncommon circumstance.

"I love your eyes," Erik says — or perhaps he thinks it? — because it comes out crystal clear to Charles as Erik runs the pads of his thumbs over Charles' eyelids and licks away a stray trace of tears and plants kisses, moist and tender, on Charles' cheekbones and brows.

Charles doesn't say anything; he's obeying the initial rule of not questioning this, and of sitting back and taking whatever Erik has to offer.

Erik goes on (so yes, he must have spoken before, because Charles can see Erik's lips moving this time), "And I love your hands. Hard-working and strong, but still relatively soft, unlike mine." And he runs his hands down Charles' biceps and across his forearms, unknotting the telepath's hands from behind his neck to grasp those hands, Charles' fingers curling around his thumb as Erik kisses each center knuckle of both appendages. Then, slowly, he brings Charles' hands to his hips, watching Charles' eyes as he rocks forward, and Charles can _feel _Erik's honesty in his actions.

"You're actually… hard for me?" Charles murmurs, and he honestly didn't think it possible, that self-doubting part of him that's consumed him as of late. He didn't so little stimulation would work, and he almost didn't think Erik would be attracted to a man enough to be aroused by one, particularly not Charles.

Erik growls and leans over, mouth hot on Charles' ear as he nips the lobe and the licks it, nose touching down to inhale the scent of Charles' neck before his mouth sucking his collarbone and he grinds out, "You fool, have you not been paying attention? I don't take to woman very much, and I've always wanted you. Now is no exception. You're _delicious, _Charles."

The words send a shiver down Charles' spine, and he moans a quiet, "Oh…" under his breath. he arcs upward as much as he can with his spine acting alone, his hands scrambling for purchase on Erik's hips where the damn man had placed them. He gains a better grip when his fingers stretch around that narrow waist to grab hold of Erik's ass, and Erik hisses hungrily, biting down with exposed teeth on Charles' shoulder. The action, Charles realizes, also brought their groins together, and ah, yes, that would explain the rush of heat and arousal shooting up through Charles, and that would also explain the mark he'll have on his shoulder later.

Charles gasps, almost not having realized how erect he's become, the nerves slightly dulled there form his injury, but, of course, the blood flow healthy as ever. He whines a little as Erik rocks his hips, and Charles can feel the muscles in Erik's bottom shift and grow taunt in his hand, and he moans aloud when Erik's mouth finds one of Charles' pert buds on his chest.

"As much as I love this, Charles, your briefs hinder me, and my pants are uncomfortable. One moment, please," Erik states huskily, reluctantly bringing his head up and leaning back on his knees, one planted on either side of Charles' hips. Their lengths brush for a second, and Erik takes in the sight with a smirk at how flushes Charles' face is, how musses his hair has become, and how perfect his length looks even tented in his underwear.

Erik slides downward, careful of Charles' legs, and removes the offending garment, and then sheds his own, pleased inwardly as how Charles is watching him, blue eyes dark with lust, lids at half-mast, tongue flicking out to lick eager lips. He also is pleased by the adoration in Charles' expression as soon as they are both stark naked.

Erik slinks upward, using his hands to push apart Charles' legs and lay them to the wayside, and he doesn't hesitate to let Charles feel their touching skin wherever he can feel, and Charles moans throatily and runs his hands along Erik's back and down his front, hands trailing down until they none-too-timidly grasp Erik's manhood.

"Not yet," Erik says tightly, because his hips give an involuntary jerk into the telepath's grasp. "You first. This is about you, if you recall," he reminds lovingly, and pecks a kiss on Charles' lips before running his hands down Charles' torso and bringing his face between the man's legs.

Charles lets out a small, adorable noise. "E-Erik, you don't have to —"

"Want to," Erik mutters as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "It would mean a lot to me if you would let me do as I please, my friend. I promise it's within your best interests… and mine."

He grips the base of Charles' member in one fist and peers up, watching Charles' eyelids flutter and eyes roll back, chin lifting and hands gripping the sheets. Erik breathes hotly onto Charles for a moment, and he can smell sweat, yes, but also the lasting traces of Charles' recent shower, the one he must have taken before getting dressed.

Experimentally, Erik opens his mouth and touches his tongue to the tip, just on the underside of the head, and guides it upward by moving his hand from the base. Charles groans a beautiful sound, and Erik deems it high time to move on. He brings the head fully into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the slit and pumping his hand along the shaft, his free hand running up over Charles' pelvis and onto his trembling belly, tracing invisible patterns on the skin, tickling and triggering further arousal.

Charles thrashes his head about. He can't even look at the metalbender; he knows Erik's eyes are shut, lashes skipping his cheeks, and he can feel how Erik is now pumping him in and out of his mouth, cheeks hollowed out more than usual, and the thoughts alone are too much, so he doesn't dare look at the real thing.

And oh, the _feeling; _he didn't think he could feel this much, not after the accident, and he never thought anyone would do this for him; after all, his "sexploits" in college at Oxford never amounted this much intimacy, this much pleasure, this much _anything. _It's all more than he thought possible, and it's all thanks to Erik, his dearest, closest friend, even after ten months, even after —

Charles can no longer think. He starts to pant something fierce, the tension like liquid sunlight in his veins. He can feel it building — the pressure, the pleasure, the speed of Erik's tongue and mouth and hands — and he's about to burst and melt, he knows it.

"E-eh-Erik," he sputters, eyes flashing open long enough to glance down and find his friend opening his own eyes and peering directly up at Charles, pink head in his mouth, peachy length being rubbed by his hand, and the sight makes Charles' mouth hang open and he moans long and low.

That does it, and soon, it's nothing but lightning and warmth, and Erik takes it like a man, swallowing, hiding his grimace as Charles trembles with aftershocks, and wipes his mouth, and even swipes the remaining droplets from around Charles' manhood.

"Do you believe me, now? That you are still very much attractive, Charles, and sexually appealing whether your legs function or not?" Erik says coolly as he lays his body alongside Charles' and moves a hand over Charles' jaw and down his chest.

His breath coming back to him and his heart slowly returning to normal beats, the shorter brunet nods his head. "Yes," he says, "I believe you. And I also believe that you yourself deserve a reward for yanking me quite forcefully out of my depression."

He rolls onto his side to face Erik, reaches a hand downward, and latches his mouth onto Erik's neck as he grips the metalbender's circumcised length and slides his thumb along the main vein, twists his fist at the head, his palm rubbing over the slit, and repeats the motion a few times before he's pumping his hand quickly over Erik's shaft, thumb swiping at pre-come at the top now and again, and it doesn't take long for Erik to erupt.

"Charles," he gasps, his hands tangling themselves in the telepath's hair from their original places on his back and waist, ceasing their rubbing motions to scratch at Charles' scalp as he clenches them, into fists and comes in Charles' hands and, incidentally, on his own stomach.

Charles licks away the mess from his hand — a dirty, unexpected sight that makes Erik's tired member twitch again — and soon, the afterglow-cuddle is in order, Erik taking Charles causally into his arms and curling up with him.

"It's still morning; not even noon. You could stay for the day, and —" Charles attempts quietly, his hair being combed and smoothed by Erik's hand, the other on his back, and his face pressed into Erik's chest. "And I could explain to everyone —"

"That wouldn't work, Charles, and you know it," Erik replies gently. He sighs. "Besides, I only came here to see _you._ I will clean you up properly, dress you, clean and dress myself, and then be on my way. But I will visit often, and at night, if I'm within your range, I'll seek out your thoughts with my own. Is that acceptable?"

"As much as I can ask for," Charles agrees tiredly. He hides his face in Erik's skin for a moment, because the thought almost pains him; secret rendezvous, and nothing more? And would it be too much to think or say that Charles might love Erik, and want more than that?

It is. So he keeps it to himself and lets Erik carry out his plans.

_But, at the very least,_ Charles thinks to himself,_ I no longer feel insecure. Erik cured me of that._ And that _had _been the goal, had it not?


End file.
